It was in the mid-nineties today, but I couldn't care. I had a hankering for Simi's potato soup and that was that. I tracked down her "recipe", then I messaged her for clarification. She's one of those amazing cooks that doesn't really write down recipes. She puts "some" of this and "a couple spoons" of that and voila - deliciousness. I went for it anyway, and it was good. Not as good as if Simi had made it but I suppose that privilege is for another day.
It was an interesting study in our family unit getting smaller and our impending empty nest. Used to be, I would make a giant pot of soup like that and it would feed our large family and we would have a little left over for lunch the next day. As the years have gone by, I have seen my leftovers become larger portions. Although, the dishes created in bulk cooking are still outrageous! The youngest is off on a mission trip this week and that left just three of us at the dinner table. That also left a portion that will feed us lunch tomorrow, a portion that will go in the freezer that will provide another meal another day, and another single serving portion that will go in the freezer that someone can pull out when only thinking of themselves.
I wonder if I will like cooking for just two, or if I will find it somehow less satisfying. Who am I kidding? I don't like cooking at all.
Then, the bad thing happened. I was preparing to fill my Hawaii cup with ice water (cause I am still trying to kick the evil soda habit) and I accidentally knocked it to the floor. I've already replaced the lid for this cup because it broke in a fall, but today was the last straw for the poor thing. I said goodbye to the pieces and the fond memories of being hosted in Hawaii and the sweet care package Mary sent me before I ever got there.
Aloha, dear cup....